


Pitch Black X Fem-Reader - Bringing Scary Back

by writeyouin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Creampie, F/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Porn, Reader-Insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Request: The plot would revolve around an adult fem!reader who loves all things scary and Halloween/Oct-centric, and enjoys nightmares to the point of trying to induce them (i.e. scary movies/literature, consuming dark chocolate, soda or wine, chilis before bed). Curiosity and interest peaked, Pitch pays the reader a visit one night with the intention of really making her scream. Reader is surprised but totally into it.





	Pitch Black X Fem-Reader - Bringing Scary Back

Pitch Black shuddered as yet another child ran through him. He glared unhappily at the child who was dressed as a zombie while she caught up to some other trick or treating children. He hated this; Halloween was a mockery of what it used to be. Where were the good old days when people revered the holiday, worshipping him and the very creations he’d made to haunt their worst nightmares? Did these pathetic, powerless creatures even remember why the old ways were created? He doubted it.

Pumpkins in place of parsnips, designed to keep him away, not that they ever did, but he had appreciated the effort; it had meant that he was so terrifying that humans would believe literally anything, if only to keep him at bay. People would lock themselves away and he would be free to roam and terrify whichever poor whelps decided to go outside on his day.

Now, the humans had made a joke of Halloween, turning it into a holiday for their children to run about playing and getting candy, dressing up as the very monsters he’d spent centuries hand-crafting to terrify them. Where was all the fear?

Pitch trudged forward, taking at least a little bit of relief in the few children that did see him and ran away accordingly; he supposed the night would not be a complete waste. After all, scaring just one child would lead to them spreading stories of him to others, which would cause his powers to grow. Of course, if he truly wanted things to return to the way they were, when he was in power, he would have to scare as many people as he could, so his legacy would spread faster.

Seven O’clock loomed ever closer; the time when all good children ought to be in bed. Pitch transformed into a swirling shadow, using his wraith-like form to slip under the cracks of doors, into people’s homes, simply searching for the perfect target. He passed through children’s parties, disgusted by the amount of fun he saw. Whomever his target was to be, they had to be devoid of hope. He passed through numerous houses, deeply disappointed by the lack of worthy targets, until finally he stopped in the living room of an unfamiliar house.

You were sat on the sofa, reading a Steven King novel that Pitch Black had inspired; he often liked to send nightmares to King’s house, the man fed off his creations, scaring the world with them. Pitch was used to people indulging in his lesser creations; what he was not used to was the blatant attempt to induce nightmares in oneself, though, that was clearly what you were attempting to do with a pile of horror films, dark chocolate, and red wine that covered the table. He glanced around the house, finding Halloween decorations, though not like those of the other houses. These decorations at least aimed to intimidate if not scare; he hadn’t seen a skeleton so life-like in a long time and you’d even made it look like it had been murdered in the middle of the floor. He was somewhat impressed.

Pitch leaned over your shoulder, commenting drily, “Why induce nightmares when the real world is one?”

You jumped out of your seat with a yelp, then turned to face the intruder. Pitch Black frowned for surely you couldn’t see him, then the book came flying at him. He caught it with much amusement and you grabbed the wine bottle from the table, holding it defensively.

You snarled at Pitch. “Get out of my house, right now, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Try and kill the Bogey Man,” Pitch finished sardonically.

You glared at him confusedly, “What? Look mister, I mean it, get out.”

He chuckled, “You humans are all the same, though I do find it interesting that you can see me; you have to believe in me for that.”

“See you- What the h- Who are you?”

“Me? Come now, you must know me to see me. I’m the stuff of nightmares, I’ve probably inspired every terrible thought you’ve ever had.” He vanished behind a door, reappearing behind you and whispering in your ear, “I’m the Bogey Man.”

You jumped again, dropping the wine bottle, though Pitch caught that too and placed it back on the coffee table.

“Look, I- I don’t know what your game is but I don’t want any trouble.”

Pitch rolled his eyes at the terribly human reaction, “Ah, so you don’t believe me. Very well.”

He reached out and you flinched as he touched your cheek. You’d never felt anything so cold in your life and upon contact a horrifying montage of monsters and personal terrors flooded your vision. You wanted to scream but the monsters climbed into your throat, choking you till you crumpled onto the floor, still conscious, but struggling to breathe. Pitch drew strength from your fear, trying to remember the last time he’d induced such a powerful attack on the senses; why, it had been the dark ages.

He could have toyed with you all night, but who were you, an adult going to frighten with tales of him? He let you go, leaving you to gasp on the floor.

“Thanks for the power up,” he sneered, preparing to leave.

“You are real,” You panted.

“And you will think twice before seeking me out.”

“You’re leaving?”

Pitch rolled his eyes, “I have work to do.”

“But- but- that’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. It- It was- AMAZING,” You shrieked excitedly. “I mean, my grandma always warned me about the Bogey Man, but I never imagined… How did you even come up with all of that? Was that as bad as it gets or-”

Pitch watched you with a sly smile as you babbled on. He’d never seen anyone appreciate his unique craft before. Back in the days when everyone had seen him, an attack like that would have sent grown men running home shrieking, or sometimes straight into an asylum. Yet, here you were, asking him exactly how he’d done it and evidently wanting more.

“I’m Pitch Black, I can create fear from the tiniest morsel of insecurity,” he bragged. “You ought to be running from me girl. However…”

“What?” You asked unsurely, your earlier buzz fading to nervous anticipation, though the feeling wasn’t unwelcome.

“If you really want to scream, I could think of a few ways to go about it,” He let his hands travel to your thighs, the cold seeping into you.

“W-wait- You mean you want to-”

Pitch closed in on you, expecting you to back into the wall in fear. Instead, you surprised him. “Bedroom’s upstairs,” You smiled.

Pitch picked you up, teleporting the two of you into your bedroom in the blink of an eye. He dropped you onto the bed, thinking of how long it had been since he’d been with a human; back in Victorian times if he remembered correctly, when his followers slowly started to dwindle away. He’d only ever mated with humans that revered him as a God, now would be no different.

He placed ice cold hands on your hips, creating dark shadows that writhed around your body, tugging at your clothes and tearing them away in the places that mattered most, leaving you exposed in rags.

Pitch chuckled darkly, “A girl who worships darkness, tell me, will it still be so in the morning, after a night of nightmares?”

You shuddered as a shadowy tendril wrapped around your breast, pressing over it with feather-like touches. “You talk too much,” You replied, leaning up to pull hm on top of you.

Pitch found your response charming. The previous humans he’d mated with did so because they thought it would keep them safe or because they were an offering; you were the first to do anything with him out of pleasure. It was something he’d reward. He let you kiss his neck, chin, and cheek, only stopping you at his lips.

“Naughty, naughty,” he chided, using his slightly warped form to clamp your mouth shut. “Nobody kisses the Bogey Man and lives to tell the tale.”

He moved to your breasts, licking, sucking, nipping, yet disregarding the nipple completely. You moaned beneath your gag, shivering and longing for his full attention. Still, he ignored the silent pleas of your body, instead moving lower, to your vagina which he teased ever so slightly with his tongue, making sure you were aroused, but never diving in enough to satisfy you.

He delighted in your wanton groaning. “Hmm, considering I ‘ _talk too much_ ,’ you certainly do love my mouth. How would you react, I wonder, if there were more to go around?” His body stretched and reformed, growing extra long arms with multiple pairs of lips and teeth. They all looked grotesque as horrors only Pitch could summon, yet you quivered in anticipation of what they would do.

Finally free of your gag, you stared hungrily, “Use them.”

Pitch let his arms travel to your erect nipples, using the extra mouths to suck eagerly at them, while his own mouth lavished your wet folds as it darted in and out, flicking over your clit them moving away; tormenting, always tormenting.

“Ah. Yes~” You moaned. “More. More!”

Pitch ignored your cries for more, simply lapping your juices and growing even more mouths to tug at exposed flesh, intermingling pain with your pleasure that he fed off like a parasite. Forget children, you were going to be quite the nutritious meal for him. Your hips bucked into his mouth and he finally took his hands away from your soaked bosom to restrain you.

“Already so close to your finish, my slave,” He murmured against your folds, sending tingles through you. “But we haven’t even got to the main course yet.”

“Please~” You begged.

Pitch glared at you with cold eyes, “No. Not yet.”

He returned to his original form, holding you down with strong arms and waiting until he felt you wouldn’t climax for a little while longer. His clothes melted away, revealing a fully erect dick, simply waiting to enter you.

“Don’t make me wait any more,” You groaned, hating that he was the very image of calm while you were a desperate mess.

“And what will you do once this is all over? Return to your ordinary life?” Pitch mocked.

“I’ll- I’ll wait for you to come back-”

“Such a presumptuous slave, thinking I’ll come back,” Pitch grinned, knowing full-well that he would return.

He thrust into you, dragging you closer to him and forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. He wasted no time giving you his full length and waiting till you’d got used to his size and pace before playing his next little trick. You screamed, the sound precious to Pitch as he filled you up entirely with shadows that he formed inside you. He made sure to stretch you as far as you could go, dragging you toward him and rocking the bed with each movement.

“Thought it would be fun with the Bogey Man, did you?” Pitch laughed as he pulled at you like a rag doll. “I warned you, you would scream.”

“I’m going to-” You rasped.

“Yes, I know, my dear, I know, but not before I do.” Pitch climaxed as calmly as he’d fucked you, ever a man of decorum.

You felt yourself clench around his cock as your own orgasm left you breathless and slightly nauseous in a good way. Thick black cum dripped down your thighs, glittering slightly in the darkness as Pitch pulled out.

“And now dear slave, I think I’ll take my leave.” Pitch’s clothes reformed with a flourish.

You had to fight to regain control of your body, barely thinking straight after such an episode. “Will you come back?”

Pitch raised an eyebrow, “My, my, you are interested in bringing scary back, aren’t you?”

Before you could respond, he vanished, leaving you alone and colder than you’d ever been, in your short life.


End file.
